


Father's Day

by Liz_Jarvis



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Blair Sandburg's Father, Father's Day, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz_Jarvis/pseuds/Liz_Jarvis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is having Father's Day issues, Blair is not helping.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father's Day

Jim hated Father's Day. To be honest he hated any day which involved spending vast amounts of money on presents which no one wanted and tacky cards which were displayed on a mantle for 2 days maximum then thrown in the trash. Unless it was his birthday of course, by which point he'd have given out enough hints about what he wanted as a gift. He'd been talking about needing new fishing gear for months; God help the fool who turned up with a wrapped mug and a flimsy card reminding Jim that he was no longer the young whipper snapper he'd once been.

And Christmas. Every year he vowed he wouldn't be sending Christmas cards. Waste of time, money and precious energy. Not to mention glitter. Why did people have an obsession with sending glittery cards? The stuff ended up everywhere and he couldn't count the number of times he'd nearly zoned whilst looking at yet another sparkly snowman. But then cards would start arriving in the mail and Sandburg would make him feel guilty for not being in the Christmas Spirit. And so he ended up having to write cards in return, if only to stop his room mate signing off each of his own cards _'Love Blair and Jim xxx'_ as if they were a married couple.

Although Jim and his father had finally starting talking again after years of near silence it was a very tentative relationship; neither one quite comfortable with the other just yet. Which was why Jim was having such difficulty picking out a Father's Day card. Pictures of father and son playing soccer and sentiments of "World's Greatest Dad!" just seemed too contrived.

Which brings us to the card aisle in a very busy supermarket --

 

"Come on, man! Would you just pick one!? The game's starting in 20 minutes -- Look, just get this one," Sandburg clamored away as he picked up one card after another, shoving them into Jim's hands. "This one's nice, or how about this one? Nice picture of a dad fishing with his son -- Oh, or how about this one? Come on, Jim, choose already!"

Sandburg's incessant chatter was starting to grate on his already grated nerves. His headache-now-migraine was growing stronger by the second. The clanging of trolleys and baskets; the tantrums of children being refused candy; the gossiping of mom's discussing the latest marriage break-up; the flicker of faulty tube lighting overhead....

" **SANDBURG, WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP AND STOP TOUCHING EVERYTHING!** " Jim roared. Blair stopped mid-sentence, shocked, and turned wide-eyed to face the detective.

Despite a little voice at the back of his mind telling him to 'Stop! Stop now!' Jim worked himself up into a fury and let rip.

"I know you think you know best about everything, but just back off, OK!? Why are you even here anyway? It's not like you even have a dad to buy a card for! Just back off, and let me choose one in peace, capice?!"

Blair stared at him for a moment and opened his mouth as if to say something. Then he closed it abruptly, turned on his heel and stalked toward the exit.

Jim closed his eyes, shook his head and swore under his breath. 'Nice one, Ellison.' Opening his eyes he swiftly glanced back over the cards. Grabbing the least offensive one he could find he hurried over to the check-out to pay for his purchase then out to the truck. Blair, thankfully, was still waiting for him.

\----------

The drive home was a quiet one. As was the elevator ride up to their floor. Jim unlocked the door and sighed as Blair brushed past him and headed straight for his room under the stairs. "Chief, I --" he started but was cut off by the slamming of the french doors. Jim resigned himself to the fact that he was in the dog house for the foreseeable future and decided that the best course of action was to make a start on dinner. Maybe the smell of fresh lasagne would coax the anthropologist out of his room long enough for Jim to attempt an apology...

An hour later and, despite the delicious aroma of a home cooked meal, Sandburg was still hiding in his room. The game had been on for a while; the fact that Blair hadn't come out to watch it was an obvious testament as to how pissed he presently was with his so-called Blessed Protector. Sitting on the couch Jim could hear him shuffling around and opening and closing drawers; at least Blair was still in the loft and hadn't climbed out the fire-escape. He took comfort in that.

The snick of the french doors opening brought him out of his musings and he looked up to see Blair hovering in his doorway holding what looked to be an old shoe box. Jim opened his mouth to form an apology but Blair cut him off.

"Jim, don't say anything, just listen to what I have to say, OK?"  Blair paused and sighed before he continued. "I'm not going to pretend that I wasn't hurt by what you said, but I know you didn't mean it so I'm not going to make a deal out of it. Just put it down to fear-based responses, yeah?" As he talked, he moved closer to the couch and placed the shoe box on the seat next to Jim. At Jim's inquisitive look he motioned toward the box. "Just open it," he said.

Jim picked up the box and placed it on his lap. He removed the lid, reaching inside to remove a handful of cards. Father's Day cards. His brow furrowed with confusion and he glanced up at Blair. Receiving a nod he opened the card on the top of the pile.

 

 _To Dad,_

 _Happy Father's Day_

 _Love Blair_

 _  
_

Jim opened the next one.

 

 _Dad,_

 _Wishing you a wonderful Father's Day,_

 _Your son, Blair_

 _  
_

Each card was dated, and Jim realised there were years worth of unsent Father's Day cards in the box.

"I may not know my father," Blair murmured, "But I still have one. Somewhere. I figured -- I figured that maybe -- one day, if I ever met him -- well I could give him these cards." He stopped and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "And if I don't -- well, at the very least I know I've done my part in being a son."

Lapsing into silence Blair stared at the coffee table. Feeling a hand grasp his shoulder he glanced up to find intense blue eyes gazing at him.

"Chief," Jim said softly, "Any man would be proud to have you as his son." He smiled at his room-mate. A smile which grew wider as it was shyly returned.

"Thanks, Jim," was the whispered response.

 

\--


End file.
